


Your Cheeks Blush as Red as the Rubies Embedded in Your Tiara (Or Maybe Your Hair)

by tittiebounce



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, it's super cute, joshler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tittiebounce/pseuds/tittiebounce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joshua William Dun: prince of Manitana, the largest kingdom in North America. Shy, humble, and incredibly adorable - he's what someone on his Tumblr dash called a "cinnamon roll," which was nice of them. (Tyler may or may not have stopped breathing when he saw stillstreet had reblogged his post.)</p><p>in other words: Josh is an introverted cutie who wears a tiara and Tyler is an aspiring musician who may or may not have dedicated a few songs to him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Want To Believe

**Author's Note:**

> a royalty au prompt was submitted anonymously to my tumblr, and i fell in love with the idea of a shy prince josh, so, here! this is modern day, but just imagine that we kind of have a constitutional monarchy like england
> 
> Kingdoms:  
> the kingdom names are based loosely off of canadian territory and the original 13 colonies. for example: Josh and Tyler's kingdom, Manitana, is Manitoba/Ontario all the way down to Louisiana, like the Louisiana Purchase territory, almost. also, north carolina and south carolina - one of the kingdoms in this story is called The Carolina Republic, which takes up the south east (like Dixieland). 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy!

Prince Joshua Dun was cute.

His eyes would always crinkle when he laughed, and his tiara never seemed to sit right on the abundance of curly hair he always tried to straighten. His boyish and child-like persona was admirable - not that he was ignorant or naive, but how he seemed to radiate optimism and purity. He lit up a room like a television on low volume. Subtle, bright. Joshua was extraordinary.

Prince Joshua was the youngest of his siblings. At age seventeen, he was still sat at the kids' table during holiday meals with his family. He didn't really enjoy having cousin Jeremy, aged eleven, "accidentally" spill ham and cider on him, only to snicker when one of their aunts made a cross comment about Joshua's table manners. Still, he was patient. He never complained about anything, making him a secret favorite of the housemaids.

Prince Joshua liked to stay down to earth. He used social media. He went to the cinema. He had calculus homework. He binge-watched shows on Netflix.

Normal, teenage boy stuff.

Besides the fact that he was, you know, royalty.

 _Royalty_. He thought it sounded so pretentious.

Joshua liked to interact with the kids who followed him online. He didn't get to hang out with a lot of kids his age in real life, besides Debby or Ashley, but they were both twenty now, and had more opportunity to do stuff. Like, they could drink alcohol. And pay taxes. In Joshua's eyes, they were the coolest people ever. They didn't want to hang out with some kid all the time, surely.

Debby and Ashley's fathers were close companions with his own, the King's right-hand men. They'd been close since the King was first inaugurated as a boy, and, naturally, Joshua and the girls continued their friendship into the next generation. They became the best of friends in primary school, and the rest was history. However, Joshua didn't see them as often as he used to. They had lives of their own, things to do. After all, Debby ran a magaine and Ashley a cosmetics line. So, Joshua resorted to talking with other kids online, unbeknownst to his parents. He loved his followers, they were funny, sweet, and creative. They messaged him on Tumblr, tweeted him - some even ran blogs _dedicated_ to him.

One of those followers happened to be Tyler Joseph.

Tyler was nearly twenty one, a Junior in college, and a struggling artist.

Well, Tyler liked to call his work art. Most people who bothered listening to it just labeled his work as "crude noise." However, he didn't pay attention to the negativity. Tyler liked what he created, and that was all that mattered.

From one of his earliest memories, Tyler remembered his mother calling him into the living room the day the new royal baby had been born. "They're going to reveal them to the world on TV," his mother explained, a giddy edge to her voice. "I wonder if it's a boy or a girl? Ooh, what could they've named them?"

Tyler, being only three years old at the time, didn't really understand why everyone was so excited for this baby in particular. His own brothers and sisters were still babies, and they didn't get put on the news. _Did he get put on the news when he was a baby?_ "Momma, did _I_ get put on the-"

"Shh, Tyler! There they are!"

Tyler, slightly annoyed by being cut off, crawled closer to the television screen, watching as the baby - a mushy looking creature swaddled up in a green blanket - was carried put of the palace. Immediately, applause and cheers erupted from the crowd, and the King and Queen smiled with pride. The Queen looked exhausted, yet she emit an exuberant glow as she cradled the child close. Tyler listened as his own mother ' _oohed_ ' and ' _aahed_ ' from behind him.

As soon as the excitement died down, the King stepped forward, flourishing a microphone as he addressed the crowd, "On behalf of my beautiful wife and I-" the Queen smiled. "-I would like to welcome our new prince of Manitana, Joshua William!"

Applause broke out once again, and the Queen even shed a tear. Tyler's mother started clapping, prompting his father to join in on viewing the broadcast.

The baby prince looked bored, asleep even, and three year old Tyler pondered over how rude that was. Everyone was there to see him, shouldn't he at least stay _awake_ and appreciate it?

Three year old Tyler reflected on what he'd just thought, realizing how dumb that sounded. Newborn babies are always asleep. His own baby sister was in the next room drooling all over her crib.

Nonetheless, Joshua intrigued Tyler. A few years later, when he was twelve and Joshua was nine, he remembered thinking that Joshua had nice eyes - kind and curious. When Tyler turned seventeen and Joshua was fourteen, he remembered flushing at the sound of Joshua's laugh on the TV, or giggling at clips of the prince where his too-big tiara slid into his eyes. Tyler found it endearing.

By the end of the next year, when Tyler surpassed two birthdays and turned nineteen and Joshua still fifteen, even the mention of the prince's name had butterflies whirling in his stomach. He tried to play it off as a celebrity crush, but everyone knew (especially his roommate, Mark) how madly in love Tyler was with Joshua. Really, it was only a matter of time before Tyler was writing gushy love song after gushy love song about the prince, and it was getting on Mark's nerves having to listen to Tyler drone on like a lovesick puppy. One morning, Tyler was rambling about Prince Joshua's _shoulders_ , for God's sake.

"He's just so _lean_ ," Tyler called from the kitchen. "I mean, I'm skinny, but he's got this broad frame. Well, torso. And like, that shoot he did with People Magazine awhile back for his sixteenth birthday, he wore this button up that-"

"Tyler, dude," Mark interrupted. "He's not even legal yet. Keep it in your pants"

Tyler faltered, his ears turning pink.

"I'm not _that_ much older than him," Tyler retorted. He dropped his voice a bit, "And he'll be eighteen next summer." Tyler flushed, checking the temperature of the kettle and flinching when it burned his palm.

"And you'll still be here fantasizing about him if you don't get to class," Mark said.

Tyler frowned. "Class starts at 8:30, and I don't fantasize about him."

"And Elvis never died." Mark stated, followed by a final, resonating burp.

"Well," Tyler began, "some theorists say-"

Mark groaned, followed by a distinguishable creaking noise announcing his departure from their secondhand couch.

"Tyler," Mark said, shuffling into the kitchen. He pointed at the clock on their stove. "It's 8:46."

The kettle began to shriek.

+

"Come on, Joshua, you can't stay locked up in your room watching The X-Files forever."

"I want to believe. Why don't you want believe, Debby?"

"I believe that Mulder is hot as hell, if that's what you're hinting at."

"... That's true."

Debby smiled. Joshua grimaced.

"Deb, I know what you're trying to do."

Debby scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

Joshua shifted his weight in his spot on his bed, fiddling with the silky fabric of his sheets. "My parents would have me beheaded if I went to that festival."

"Joshu- Josh, executions aren't even in practice anymore, and I don't understand why they won't let you go in the first place," Debby exclaimed.

"They're worried I'll get hurt, or something," Josh explained, "and I'm a bit scared of that, too, honestly. Festivals can be dangerous."

"Josh." Debby deadpanned. "You've hardly been outside this palace your whole life; you need to go out and experience the real life of a teenager."

Josh shrugged, slumping back into his pillows. "That's why I watch your Snapchat story."

Debby wanted to scream.

"Besides," Josh continued, "people notice me every time I go out for anything. A whole weekend at a festival in Columbus?"

"It's just right around the corner," Debby said.

Josh threw his arms up in frustration. "Exactly! Someone will see me, put it on the internet, and then my parents will find out and send a freaking SWAT team to get me out of there in less than ten minutes! It'd be so embarrassing..." Josh paused for a moment, regaining his breath. "Plus, I'll be on restriction from hanging out with you guys - _again_."

Debby pursed her lips. "Dyeing all of Jordan's underwear green was Ashley's idea, 'kay? And you helped, so shut up."

Josh groaned.

"Look," Debby said softly, sitting next to Josh on his bed. "I know you're shy, and I know you're nervous about going to such a big event," She pulled Josh in under her arm, "But Josh, I can promise you, and your parents, that Ashley and I will keep you safe at all costs. No need for a SWAT team to ruin all the fun-" Josh giggled, making Debby grin. "-and we'll even stay in a hotel instead of camping out, sound good?" Josh nodded, cuddling into her side.

"I'm glad you're here to be my older sister that I do have but never wanted."

Fond swelled in Debby's chest. "No problem, Princess Jishwa."

Josh lightly punched her in the gut. "Don't push it."

×

_New Tweet from **Spooky Jim:**_

"@ **joshuadun** : @ **DebbyRyan** talked my mom and dad into letting me go to the festival in Columbus this weekend! if ur goin, please come say hi!!"

_**DEBBY RYAN** retweeted **Spooky Jim** 's tweet._

_**Tyler Jøseph** quoted **Spooky Jim** 's tweet:_

"@ **tylerrjoseph** : you'd think he wasn't actually the prince of an entire kingdom. cute."

_**Spooky Jim** liked **Tyler Jøseph'** s tweet._

+

_**buzzfeed.tumblr.com** : Prince Joshua may be royalty, but he's still a kid living under his parents' roof and under their rules... **Click to view full article.**_

_**stillstreet**_ _reblogged **buzzfeed** :_  
absolutely not! im a man who plays by my own rules B^)

 _ **twentyonepilots** reblogged **stillstreet** :_  
pls joshua you are an actual cinnamon roll

 _ **stillstreet** reblogged **twentyonepilots**_  
_tagged_ :  
# cinnamon roll? # that's a new one # thank you kind sir

×

 _ **twentyonepilots** **.** **tumblr.com:**_  
i love dying and being dead  
_tagged_ :  
# prince joshua noticed me TWICE today and i think im gonna puke # i am blessed # he's so fuckign c U TE # I a M SCREMAIJG # HE CALLED ME 'SIR'

+

"-Mr. Joseph, you were already late, I don't want to kick you out for using your cellphone during the same instruction."

Tyler cringed when he heard his name called from the front of the small auditorium. He was at an English seminar, and tweet and post notifications from the prince kept getting sent to his phone. Unable to resist, Tyler tried to be discrete and hide his phone in his lap.

Well, key word: _tried_. How did she even see what he was doing from all the way up here?

His professor crossed her arms. "Put it away, Mr. Joseph."

"Yes, ma'am," Tyler mumbled. He heard a few of his classmates snicker as he shoved his phone back into his bag. Tyler rolled his eyes.

_"Psst. Hey, Tyjo."_

Tyler instinctively looked to his left, meeting the eyes of Brendon Urie, AKA, the loudest and most obnoxious fuckboy on campus. Brendon Urie, AKA, Tyler's closest friend.

' _What?_ ' Tyler mouthed.

Brendon mouthed ' _who sent you a-'_ and mocked the action of taking his dick out of his pants and capturing a photo of it on his phone.

Tyler rolled his eyes once again. "No one sent me a nude, _Jesus Christ._ "

"I'm more or less the fallen angel type," Brendon winked. "And stop rolling your eyes, they'll get stuck like that."

Tyler rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, the disrespect I put up with." Brendon sighed, kicking his feet up onto his desk and pulling out a bag of Skittles. "Want one?" He offered Tyler.

Tyler glanced at the front of the room, checking to make sure their professor wasn't paying any attention. Once he was sure they were in the clear, he leaned over to Brendon, asking, "Hey, do you want to go to a festival this weekend?"

Brendon choked on his Skittles, coughing outrageously. He sat up, quickly spitting the chunk up and onto his desk. A few other students looked over to see what the commotion was about, crinkling their noses in disgust at the mess of rainbow gush Brendon had just projected. Brendon glared at them, wiping his mouth.

Sniffling, Brendon turned back to Tyler. " _You_ want to go to a festival?" He asked in disbelief.

Tyler's mouth was ajar - his mind not having registered the whole Skittle Crisis that just happened before him. "Dude, what the heck, are you okay?"

Brendon waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, _I'm_ fine. Are _you_ okay?"

Tyler blinked. "Um, yeah?"

×

"He's totally not okay," Mark stated.

"I knew it," Brendon said.

"I mean, _Tyler_? Wanting to go to a _festival_? Where, like, there'll be _people_? Quick, Brendon, check his temperature."

Brendon slapped his hand onto Tyler's forehead ("Um, _ow_."), "He does feel a bit warm."

"He must have a fever. Alright, I'll call the nurse. You get him into bed, I'll be ri-"

"Brendon, Mark?" Tyler began, grabbing the attention of his frantic friends. "I'm okay, really-" He stood up from the couch, that awful creaking making everyone cringe. "You guys don't need to call the-"

Brendon and Mark grabbed each of Tyler's shoulders, pushing him back down on the couch with another screech from its springs. "Then explain why you actually want to go outside," Mark instructed.

Tyler scoffed. "Why is it such a big deal? There's a festival in town, and I wanna go."

Mark stared down at him, almost analyzing his face, reading his thoughts. For a moment, he looks like he's about to ask a question.

Suddenly, Mark takes his phone out of his pocket, and when Brendon leans over to see what he's doing, Tyler can see the reflection of the Twitter app in his square glasses.

Tyler gulps. Mark keeps scrolling.

Finally, Mark stops on an individual tweet and reads over it. Brendon rolls his eyes.

"They'll get stuck if you keep doing that, your eyes," Tyler reminds him.

Brendon glares at him. "Isn't the prince, like, fourteen or something?"

"He's seventeen," Tyler says, annoyance clear in his tone.

"He looks fourteen," Brendon states, clicking on his Twitter icon. "His tiara is pretty sweet."

Tyler wanted to scream. "It's not like I'm gonna try and hook up with him, _jeeze_ ," he explains. "I just wanna meet him, say hi. Get a picture or something."

Brendon looks back at Mark. "Do you believe that?"

Mark shrugs. "I want to believe."

Frustrated, Tyler falls face first into a couch cushion. This time, he does scream.

 _"I'M NOT TRYING TO HOOK UP WITH THE PRINCE, I JUST WANT TO ACTUALLY HAVE FUN FOR ONCE AND YOU'RE NOT LETTING ME_ ," comes out of his mouth, although it's muted by the cushion he's pressing his face into.

Everyone is silent for a moment. Tyler feels like he's going to cry, but suddenly, from behind his limp and hopeless form, he hears-

"Ugh, _fine_ ," Brendon groans. "At least it'll get you out of your dorm for the weekend," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how I'm gonna survive this. I'm gonna need Pete to hook me up with so much weed."

+

Prince Joshua once spilled hot tea on Prime Minister Obama's wife, Michelle, at a banquet held last summer for his birthday. That same event, when Josh bent down to blow the candles out on his cake, his tiara slipped right off his head and plopped into the icing. Then, to make things even better, snotty cousin Jeremy said - loud enough for the whole party to hear, mind you - that "he shouldn't be wearing a _girl's_ crown, anyways."

It wasn't the best birthday Josh ever had. And he liked his tiaras, thank you very much.

The thing is, that same heavy, sinking feeling he got in his stomach back then when he made those mistakes - well, it was now ultimately trying to drown him.

"Deb, Ashley, I don't think I can do this."

The purr of the electric razor behind his ear sent shivers down his spine.

"Come on, Joshie. You're the one who wanted to change your hair in the first place," Ashley pointed out, twirling the razor in her hand.

"Well, yeah, but..." Josh bit at his nails, and he seemed to be regressing in age by the second. "I'm... I'm nervous. What if my mom makes me change it?"

Ashley stood behind Josh as he sat on a low stool in front of his bathroom mirror, grabbing his shoulders and making him face his reflection. She played with his dark, wispy curls, biting her lip as she envisoned how to restyle them.

"You're your own person, Josh. And you're nearly an adult, anyways. You can do whay you want," She turned the razor back on. "I'm just gonna take some length off the sides, okay? Not too short."

Josh desperately gripped for Debby's hand, hearing her wince as he held it tight. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard.

"Just tell me when you're ready, princess," Ashley stated, fixing her own blue-teal hair in the mirror.

Debby rubbed the back of Josh's hand with her thumb, helping him relax. Josh opened his eyes, greeted by a reassuring smile from her. Sighing, he let out a shaky, "Go for it."

Ashley went to work, shaving off the "adorable hair" every interviewer always seemed to mention to him. He watched as tufts of it fell onto his shoulders, the ground, his lap - he picked some up, his unsteady fingers letting the strands drop back onto the ground as his palms began fo sweat. He's never done anything this drastic with his hair, and although he was scared as hell, the more hair that fell past his shoulders ("Has anyone every told you you have nice shoulders, Josh?" "Not that I can recall, no."), the lower his anxiety fell.

It only took Ashley a few minutes before she'd shaved Josh's sides ("Not too short, right?" "It looks perfect, Ashley."), leaving the top and back of his head still with his normal length hair.

"It looks cute," Debby compliments. "If you were older, I'd say you looked hot, but you're a baby, so."

Josh couldn't be bothered to pay attention to Debby's teasing, all he could do was stare at his reflection in complete awe, but yet-

"Something's missing, don't you think?" Ashley asked, running a hand through Josh's remaining long hair. "If we're gonna shave your sides like that, we might as well do something else crazy."

Josh hummed in agreement, searching for some unspoken answer in the mirror. After a moment, his eyes fell on Ashley's bag embroidered _HALSEY COSMETICS_ sitting on the counter. Poking out of it was a small box of hair dye.

"Hey," Josh said, pointing at the box, "what color is that?"

Ashley's gaze followed his finger, her face splitting into a mischievous grin. "Bright red. I was gonna use it to dye my own hair, _but_..."

Josh swallowed, grinning a little as well. "I mean, we're going for the crazy look, right?"

Debby dropped her head into her hands. "We're in for _quite_ the earful from Mr. and Mrs. Royal Highness."

×

Luckily, Ashley didn't have to bleach Josh's hair for long, which was fortunate, since Josh had already started complaining about the sting two minutes in. Josh's sister, Abigail, had actually walked in to borrow some extra towels during the midst of it. Too horror stricken to speak, the siblings simply stared at one another. Debby quickly intervened, convincing her not to tell anyone before Josh's hair was done.

With a few towels in hand, Abigail left with her lips sealed.

Next, Ashley toned his slightly yellow hair, and eventually they came to the point where she began to rub in the red dye.

"Your hair is gonna look so _fire_ , all the ladies are gonna be after you, Joshie," Ashley teased, massaging his scalp. Josh threw in a half-hearted chuckle at the comment.

Ashley smirked. "Or the gents, whichever you prefer."

Josh blushed, his cheeks matching the hue of his hair dye. He looked down in embarrassment, staring at his weary My Chemical Romance tee that was now decorated with little drops of red. _Fitting_ , he thought.

Debby knudged his foot with her own. The silent action sent a clear message: _'it's okay.'_

Ashley huffed, ripping off her gloves. "Now, we wait."

Josh smiled. "I'm excited, but I kinda wanna throw up at the same time."

"That's normal."

Debby handed Josh his phone. "We should document this."

Josh nodded, unlocking his phone (careful not to drip dye on the screen) and pulling up the camera. "Okay, get in."

The girls hurried to stand behind him, Debby holding up a peace sign and pursing her lips while both Josh and Ashley stuck their tongues out. Josh took the photo, immediately pulling up his Instagram to post it.

" **joshuadun** i'm red da ba dee da ba dye?"

 _tagged_ : **iamhalsey** and **debbyryan**

"Well, that's out in the world now," Josh stated.

"Sure is," Debby said. "So who's gonna tell your parents first? You, Abigail, or Buzzfeed?"

Josh giggled, his eyes crinkling. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

After what seemed like years of waiting, Ashley pulled Josh over to the sink and rinsed his hair out. The dye, in a sinister way, looked like blood washing down the drain. Josh began to feel queasy.

"Alright, pretty boy, let's blow dry ya hair."

It took far less time for his hair to dry than usual now that two-thirds of it was gone, Josh observed. Before he could look in the mirror, Debby covered his eyes, counting down _three... two... one..._

... And it's like Josh wasn't even himself anymore. Screw what Debby said earlier, he thought he looked damn _hot_. The shaven sides of his head were still his normal dark brown, but it contrasted amazingly with the brilliant red down the middle.

"Oh my God," Josh mumbled, in awe at his reflection for the second time that night. "I look so... _sick_. So sick."

Ashley laughed. "That hair must be controlling your brain. Never did I think I'd hear the _prim and proper_ Prince Joshua William Dun say that his hair was _sick_. Now, let's take another photo and drop some panties."

Josh posed by himself this time, holding up two peace signs over his eyes ("I'm loving the puppy dog look, babe.").

_**joshuadun** uploaded a photo to Instagram_

" **joshuadun** sick as frick"

+

"Tyler?" Mark called through a mouth of Taco Bell. "Why does it sound like you're hyperventilating?"


	2. A Good Cup of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Josh discovers the wonders of Victoria's Secret and a short tid-bit of Tyler drinking sugary water.
> 
> Also, click the links. You'll be entertained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lateness!! ive just got a whole new schedule this semester and I've been a bit overwhelmed. All is well tho. Enjoy.

“I wish I could say I was disappointed in you, but it does look rather cool. Modern.”

 

“I agree with your father, Joshua, _ but _ …”

 

Josh immediately went to see his parents after Debby and Ashley had left for the night. He wanted to show them his hair before they could go online and see the immense storm of teenagers commenting  _ “HOLY FUCK PRINCE JOSHUA”  _ and  _ “HOT DAMN BABY BOY”  _ and  _ “MY PURE SON”  _ and _ “FUCK ME DJRHFBB DADDY” _ on his social media.

 

He was more or less a bit confused by some of the comments, but he accepted them as compliments. His parents, however, might not perceive them as such.

 

On his way to his father's quarters, Josh passed by numerous members of the palace’s personnel, hearing them whisper to one another as he walked. Ms. Margaret, the head maid that was like a grandmother to Josh, had actually dropped her laundry bin and  _ shrieked _ when she saw him in the corridor. She stood in shock, staring at Josh's hair as if it might jump off his head and attack her. She seemed to snap out of her daze after Josh squeaked a “Margie?”, and she began hurriedly trying to pick up the clothes scattered across the ground. Josh wasted no time to help her, but when he knelt down, Ms. Margaret flinched, making that deep sinking feeling reappear in Josh’s gut.

 

“I do apologize, Prince Joshua…” Her hands began to shake a little, silver hair falling into her face. “Joshua…?”

 

Josh looked up from the shirt he was folding. “Yes, Ms. Margie?”

 

The woman swallowed. “Joshua, dear, what on Earth have you done with your hair?”

 

Josh shrugged. “I… wanted to try something new.”

 

Ms. Margaret gave him a stern look. “Joshua, I've been helping your mother out since you were in diapers -  _ before that, even _ \- and I've watched you grow up into the young man you are today. So don't you  _ dare  _ tell me you just wanted to “try something new” when I know for a fact that you absolutely hate trying new things.”

 

Josh chuckled a bit. “I guess I'm breaking out of my shell, then."

 

Ms. Margaret didn't seem convinced by any standards at  Josh’s claim. His awkward small talk only seemed to make the atmosphere even more and tense. 

 

Ms. Margaret raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to convince your parents to let you keep it like that?”

 

Josh crumbled the fabric in his hands. “I'll figure something out.”

 

×

 

“You have a reputation, Joshua,” his mother explained, flipping through a stack of official looking papers on the coffee table in front of her. “You're part of the royal family, a symbol of national pride. You're supposed to be doing charity work and motivating your generation to take partake a role in the world, not dressing up like a punk.”

 

“I can still do all of those things!” Josh hastily insisted, gulping as his mother removed her reading glasses to stare at him pointedly. The King and Queen were stamping documents with the family crest, empty  mugs surrounding the stacks of paper. Josh checked the time - 8:57 PM. They must've been busy when he walked in. 

 

Josh tightened his hands into fists, willing the plush sofa he was sat on to suddenly devour him whole.

 

“I even think dyeing my hair was-was  _ brave, _ ” Josh reasoned, using exaggerated hand motions to bring back his parents diluting attention. “It can empower other kids - show them that you don't have to conform to an “appropriate” societal appearance to make an impact, a-and... stuff.”

 

The King set his stamp down, rubbing his tired eyes. “Joshua, pl-”

 

“If I'm shaking hands with Malala Yousafzai as I present her with another Nobel Award for peaceful activism,” Josh prompted further, desperation seeping into his tone as his father began to wring his hands, “why should it matter what my hair looks like?”

 

Josh's mother had a defeated look in her eyes. She bit at the end of her reading glasses, thinking about how to approach the disgruntled prince.

 

“I just don't want the press to hound you about it,” she admitted, voice soft. “I don't care what you do with your appearance, hun. I care if you're upset by what random online gossip sites say about you.”

 

Josh kept his eyes glued to the ground. He wanted to rip his hair out, firey piece by fiery piece.

 

“It's hard being a teenager stuck in the public eye, believe me, Joshua-” she held the King's hand. “-we know that.”

 

“You have to understand, son,” his father added, “not everyone is going to take this lightly or view it in a positive light. We want to know if you're prepared for that.”

 

Josh took a breath, staring at the cluttered table at his knees.  _ “The Carolina Republic,”  _ he read. He couldn't help but wonder why they were exchanging business with their neighboring kingdoms in such a sneaky manner. Noticing Josh's curious glance, the King quickly stacked the papers together and held them in his lap.

 

Josh cleared his throat, ignoring his parents’ odd behavior. “I like my hair,” he said. “I can handle whatever people say about me.”

 

+

 

**_sugarscape.com_ ** :  _ Prince Joshua has upgraded from our fave lil’ cutie to our fave lil’ HOTTIE. (and yes, we are making a pun off his hair)... _ [_bit.ly/1lbESWB_ ](https://t.co/RoQmHACqOU) __

 

**_huffingtonpost.com_ ** _ :  _ _ Prince Joshua may be having a crisis - new punk hairstyle is “unprofessional and hideous” according to Prime Ministerial candidate Donald Trump... _ [ _ huff.to/1P2wtfr  _ ](https://t.co/v50MHepcZc) __

 

**_nytimes.com_ ** _ : Is Prince Joshua of Manitana going through a new phase? ‘We encourage all of our children to express themselves like any normal teen,’ Queen Laura explains... _ [ _ https://t.co/5VyQ6Erx3n _ ](https://t.co/5VyQ6Erx3n)

 

**_gq.com_ ** _ :  _ _ The youngest Prince of Manitana has a controversial new ‘do - see the King and Queen’s statement here... _ [ _ https://t.co/ojuS3fbnCL _ ](https://t.co/ojuS3fbnCL)

 

**_buzzfeed.com_ ** _ : Prince Joshua Dun uploaded pics of his new firey look while simultaneously making the worst/best pun ever… _ [ _ bzfd.it/1OvdBFo _ ](http://bzfd.it/1OvdBFo)

 

**_theonion.com_ ** _ : We all had a feeling Prince Joshua would be the emo sibling... _ [ _ https://t.co/BQlxgZO5lS _ ](https://t.co/BQlxgZO5lS)

 

_ + _

 

Ever since the pictures of his new hair had been posted online, it seemed that Josh was the entire world’s focal point. All because the “innocent and shy” Prince Joshua changed his _hair_. The way of the media was odd.

 

“You did kind of walk into the emo and punk thing,” Debby pointed out. “You were wearing a  _ My Chemical Romance _ t-shirt with your new  _ blood red _ hair.”

 

Josh laughed, switching the shopping bag in his right hand to his left, making side-eyes at Debby as they passed Hot Topic.

 

“No,” Debby deadpanned, the spaces between the tiny  _ clicks  _ of her heels becoming shorter as she sped up her pace, not even bothering to look inside the dim store. “I'm not fourteen anymore.”

 

Josh laughed, hurrying to catch back up with her. Debby had decided to take him out on a shopping spree that Tuesday so he could buy a new outfit for the festival, which fortunately, Josh's parents had still allowed him to go to. They'd bought a few muscle tanks and then some, Josh got a couple of odd glances from passersby (whether because they recognized him or because of his vibrant hair, he'd never know), and they'd each gotten a smoothie to put themselves at bay until lunch.

 

“Where to next?” Josh asked.

 

Debby took a sip from her styrofoam cup, frowning when she reached the end of her 'Berry Blast.' “I hope you don't mind, which I know you won't, of course-” she gave him a pleading look, “-but I was hoping we could stop by Victoria's Secret so I could look for new underwear.”

 

Josh blinked. “Uh, sure?”

 

Josh was an innocent kid. He never really thought about girls wearing underwear, he always tried to picture what  _ boys _ were wearing underneath their clothes. He'd never even been  _ in  _ an underwear store before. Though he lacked the general knowledge of “girly” things, the idea of them was thought-provoking, nonetheless.

 

As soon as they entered Victoria’s Secret, Josh immediately felt his face flush. All around him were dozens of mannequins dressed out in obscene lingerie.

 

“Not really your speed, eh?” Debby teased, nodding at a mannequin wearing a black corset and fishnet stockings. Josh became redder.

 

Josh noticed that he wasn't the only boy in the store. There were a few other men sifting through bras and panties, and the thoughts of them ripping the underwear off their girlfriends or wives made Josh shiver. He was definitely way out of his comfort zone.

 

In the corner of the store, there was a display of soft looking lace panties. Some were frilly with bows and others were more simple and cute, and Josh reluctantly started to imagine what  _ he  _ would look like in them - how his tanned skin would contrast with the pastel colors and the feel of the cotton stockings on this thighs and-

 

No.  _ No.  _ Josh was just making himself more and more flustered, and oh  _ God  _ he should've just waited outside. Not wanting to get lost, he began to trail closely behind Debby, keeping his eyes glued to the ground in embarrassment.

 

“Can I help you out, pumpkin?”

 

Assuming whoever was talking to them was directing the question at Debby, Josh kept his eyes at his shoes. A spare price tag was stuck to the toe of his Vans. He kicked it off, seeing a flash of _$49.99._ Jeeze.

 

Debby nudged him a bit, causing his reddened face to look up. A shop assistant stood before them, looking like she was probably in her late twenties; though, she could've just been in her early thirties with a good hand at makeup. She had an expectant look on her face, and Josh's stomach sank when he realized  she was staring directly at _him_.

 

“Do you need help finding anything?” she reiterated, her southern voice soft and gooey like honey. Josh felt mellow.

 

“He's with me,” Debby said kindly. Josh released a heavy breath he didn't know he was holding in. “Thank you, though.”

 

The woman persisted, moving closer to Josh, “Ah, but are  _ you _ looking for anything, dear? Something for a partner, or yourself? I see all kinds of boys your age shopping in here.”

 

Josh swallowed, waiting for Debby to jump in and rescue him. He hated talking to adults, especially when they were asking him questions he didn't really know how to answer.

 

Debby interjected, looking curiously at Josh, “We can get you some stuff if you want, Josh.”

 

“Ah, yes! Now-” The shop assistant took Debby's suggestion as confirmation and threw her arm Josh, guiding him throughout the store. Debby followed slowly, giggling as Josh looked back at her and mouthed _‘help me.’_

 

“-My name’s Jen, by the way. So, I assume you're not looking for bras or anything; although, I bet you'd rock a corset. Anyways, you got a prince or a princess you wanna shop for?”

 

Josh gaped at her. He forgot that everyone must've recognized him the minute he set foot in the store, but he had felt in disguise with his new hair. He must've been deadass wrong, then.

 

Jen laughed. “Ah, don't worry youngin’,” She gave a sneaky wink. “I won't go leaking that you were here. Privacy is an important policy of mine.”

 

Josh smiled a bit at her reassurance. “Thank you, Ms. Jen.”

 

“ _Ooh_ , did you hear _that_?” Jen called to Debby, startling her from her browsing in the process. “ _ Ms.  _ Jen. I like the sound of that. Let me tell you, anything you and your friend-?”

 

“I'm Debby, ma’am.”

 

“ _ Ma’am!  _ You're both so polite - but yes, anything you and your friend Debby want is on us, got it, Prince Joshua?”

 

×

 

“I look weird,” Josh blanked, fiddling with the garters on his thighs.

 

“I bet you look cute, Josh,” Debby called from outside his fitting room. “I never really saw you as the type, but, ya know. My perception skills are way off. Do you like any of them?”

 

Josh had tried on about ten pairs of panties, some garters and stockings. He didn't necessarily know why so many , but Jen had shoved pair after pair into his arms, proclaiming, “These’ll woo  _ anyone! _ ”

 

Though, he felt somewhat ridiculous, Josh had to admit, he didn't necessarily look  _ bad  _ in them. They were just… odd. A foreign concept he'd never really embarked upon.

 

He was intrigued.

 

Josh began to imagine someone - a boy, he thought - stripping him out of his clothes, the surprise yet lust they'd feel from the sight of his smooth skin adorned in lingerie. He'd wear red lace under his robes at formal events - in front of his whole family, government officials, the _world_ \- and no one would know what was underneath. The risk was all too alluring. Absolutely filthy.

 

“Hey, Deb?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Don't tell Ashley I got these. She'll never let me live it down.”

 

+

 

Tyler enjoyed a good cup of coffee. His grandad said that there's no better luxury in the world, coffee. He said something along those lines, at least. His grandad was always trying to awaken Tyler with the beautiful wonders of the world, and overtime, they all seemed to meld into one 'back in my day,' and 'if you remember anything I ever tell you, remember this...'

 

Tyler enjoyed a good cup of coffee, and by that, he means the watered down, sugary ice he bought from Starbucks forty-five minutes ago. Though it was kind of unsettling, it kept him awake, and it was easier than trying to boil water on a faulty stove back at his dorm. Instant coffee was dangerous.

 

Tyler enjoyed a good cup of a coffee. It got him out of his dorm, into the real world. You can only get so much inspiration for songwriting all holed up in a stingy bedroom, so sometimes he had to go out. Go out and do normal people things. For instance, buying a cup of coffee from a corporate café that already had enough of his money. But, that's not the point of this. The point is, Tyler uses this form of exploration into the well-known to enlighten himself. On what? That's what he's trying to find out. He's low on inspiration. He can only write so many songs about his grandad’s words of wisdom or Prince Joshua's smile, as cheesy as it sounds. He hated love songs. Mark said he should just lighten up and get laid.

 

So here he is, sitting in a glorified coffee shop with a cup of watery foam on a Tuesday night, trying to find a muse. Tyler had to admit, however, the atmosphere was nice. The lighting was low, the smell of freshly brewed bitterness somehow making the air smell sweet. How could such a bitter thing advertise itself in such a cozy fashion?

 

Tyler, in all his fluffy hair and stubble splendor; well, he guessed his grandad would say the same thing about him.  The bell on the door chimed, announcing either someone's embark to enlightment or departure to the dull.  Tyler pulled out a notebook. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update more regularly, but don't hold it against me too much if I'm a few days late!! love you guys. kisses to all.
> 
> follow me on my tumblr (humhowellujah.tumblr.com) and feel free to talk to me whenever! should i do a QNA for this story??
> 
> don't forget to comment/leave kudos and share wit ya frens


	3. Trade Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we reminisce Tyler's first time smoking weed and Brendon has a secret. Oh, and Pete's here, too.

_**IMPORTANT:** _

 

I'm sorry for not updating for two weeks. I know, it's a shitty thing to do, but my dad is sick, and he just ended his radiation and chemotherapy treatment during my absence. Most of my attention goes to him during the week, so I'm sorry if I may be gone for random periods like this again.

 

Please don't harass me for updates!! I do know the awful feeling of waiting for a fic to update but t his story is not my top priority at the moment!! I don't mean to indirect, but please - I’ll write when I can. I appreciate your concerns, though, and I am doing fine!

 

Anyways, enjoy the third chapter, kids ♡

 

+

 

Tyler's classes went by slowly that week. He didn't pay much attention to what was being taught, as his eyes remained either glued to the clock or the backs of his eyelids. Sometimes, Brendon would throw a pencil at his head to wake him up, or Mark would kick the back of his chair. Their attempts were futile, as Tyler went ahead and snoozed through the majority of his lectures.

 

“What’s been up with you?” Brendon asked him after class on Friday. Tyler rubbed at his eyes, yawning. His face was flushed with fatigue, and the bags under his eyes were especially prominent.

 

“Haven’t been sleepin’ too well,” Tyler told him.

 

“Why?” Brendon persisted. “I thought you liked to sleep so you could dream of your _prince boy_.”

 

Tyler scowled. Brendon stifled a laugh.

 

“I’ve been writing again,” Tyler explained.

 

Brendon shrugged his bag higher on his shoulders as they exited the building, the cloudy afternoon sky still bright enough to make Tyler grimace. Brendon looked up at Tyler in concern.

 

“Is that a good thing? You don’t look too well.”

 

Tyler seemed uncertain when he said, “I’m fine.” Changing the subject, he said, “Hey, the festival starts tomorrow.”

 

“It does,” Brendon blanked.

 

“We’re still going, right?”

 

“We are.”

 

“Do you think Mark will turn around and come with?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Are we gonna camp?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I don’t own a tent.”

 

“Pete has one.”

 

“Is he gonna come, too?”

 

“I can ask.”

 

Tyler hesitated. “Cool.”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon huffed.

 

Tyler grumbled. “Are  _ you _ okay, Bren?” he asked, fed up with the cold shoulder he was receiving.

 

Brendon remained stiff, monotone. He slowed his pace, suddenly taking great interest in the clouds. He let his shoulders relax, closing his eyes. “You worry me, Tyler.”

 

Tyler sighed, expecting this. “I'm fine.”

 

Brendon walked a bit faster, head down as he kicked a few pebbles on the path. “Okay.”

 

When they reached Tyler's dorm, Brendon paused in the hallway to pat him on the back and flash a charming smile. Tyler reciprocated.

 

“Take a nap,” Brendon instructed. “Get out of your own head for a bit. We've got a busy weekend ahead of us.”

 

+

 

_ Smoke. Tyler could smell smoke _ .  _ That probably wasn't good. _

 

Confused, Tyler rubbed the languor and slight layer of crust from his eyes, opening them to be presented with a dim room. The clock on his bedside table read 7:12 PM, and the heavy aroma of burning toast held strong in the air, forcing his senses to awaken with an anxious urgency. He could hear someone (maybe someone-s?) cursing loudly in the kitchen.

 

“Mark?” Tyler called, doing his best to climb out of bed, still half asleep. He had taken Brendon’s advice and had a nap after class, gladly stripping himself out of his t-shirt and jeans and falling face first into his scratchy sheets. He felt nauseous by the revolting smell circulating in their apartment.

 

God, the _one_ time Tyler decides to sleep, and someone sets something on  _ fire  _ in his _fucking_ kitchen-

 

A loud, obnoxious tone started blaring from somewhere in the ceiling. Tyler covered his ears, wincing as a dull headache started to rouse in his head. He jogged to the kitchen, only half expecting to witness Brendon and Mark fanning at an ablaze oven with wet towels.

 

Well, Brendon and Mark were fanning at an ablaze oven with wet towels.

 

Tyler shrieked. Brendon and Mark - both their faces covered in sweat - whipped around to face him, panic evident in their expressions. Tyler could feel the heat of the flames on his bare chest from eight feet away.

 

“Don't worry-” Brendon yelled over the smoke alarm. “-We've got it under control!”

 

Tyler’s eyes widened at the growing flames. “Oh, God- What the  _ hell  _ did you guys  _ do ?” _

 

Ignoring Tyler's question, Mark yelled, “ _ BACK UP, _ ” opened up a cupboard, shuffled around, then lugged out a dusty fire extinguisher. Mark fumbled with the knob, and Tyler watched in anticipation as the flames continued to grow.

 

After a few moments, the red can was spraying mist all over the fire (and because of his bad aim: a pissed off, screaming Brendon), putting it out.

 

Mark huffed once the last of the flames were extinguished. Brendon, who was now sitting on the floor and coughing, sniffled a bit, attempting to regain his composure as he stood up. He fanned at the fire smoke detector with a spare towel until it stopped its horrid beeping.

 

For a few moments, no one spoke. The three of them just looked around at one another, the same question ringing in their heads:  _ Did that just happened? _

 

Trying to ease the tension, Tyler coughed. “So…” he began, shuffling his feet. “ _ heh heh…  _ uh, what's for dinner?”

 

Brendon and Mark looked at Tyler as if he'd lost his mind. For a second, Tyler was fairly certain he had, actually - perhaps from a lack of sleep or maybe the smoke fumes.

 

“It was supposed to be cheese sticks,” Mark blanked.

 

“We wanted to make you some comfort food for when you woke up, but…” Brendon trailed off, staring into the black abyss that used to be their oven. Tyler shuffled his feet some more, nodding. He was too in shock (and slightly flattered) to scold them.

 

“.. _.But _ , I think we overestimated how long they needed to cook,” Mark finished, using an oven mitt to pull out the tray. It appeared as if small black cylinders were charred to it. Mark yanked one off, knocking it on the counter. It sounded like a rock against marble.

 

Tyler grimaced. “Maybe we could order a pizza, instead…?”

 

Brendon and Mark nodded, both of them in a daze. As soon as Mark reached for his phone, the fire alarm’s annoying screech came back on. Then the sprinklers in the ceiling began to rain down.

 

Tyler felt like there was metaphor hidden in this situation. Maybe it was hiding somewhere among the puddles forming at their feet, or in the charred cheese stick beginning to soak in Mark’s hand.

 

×

 

“I'm sorry for ruining your day even more,” Brendon later apologized, towel drying his hair. Tyler sat down on their ever squeaky couch, another towel draped over his bare shoulders.

 

Tyler shrugged him off. “It's alright Bren, it was an accident.”

 

Brendon didn't look satisfied, but he nodded nonetheless. Tyler assumed he was just too exhausted to argue.

 

Mark had dried off and left to explain to the landlord why the sprinklers went off in their dorm. He said he’d get pizza, as well, leaving Brendon and Tyler to clean up the kitchen. Their oven was surprisingly unscathed, proving to still function after a quick, cautious test from the two boys. Although, it would be eternally blackened from tonight onward. Tyler didn't mind that much, he only ever ate microwave dinners, anyways.

 

Brendon and Tyler dried everything off in silence, unspoken apologies flying between them each time they made eye contact.

 

Once they were sure all the counter and floor space was dry, Brendon and Tyler went to sit in the living room, turning on the TV. Neither of them really paid attention to the cooking show playing (how ironic), both of their minds somewhere else. Tyler wondered why Mark was taking so long to get a pizza from just down the road. He contemplated shooting him a text real quick, until he heard a sniffle from next to him.

 

“Brendon?”

 

Brendon wiped at his eyes, and Tyler caught a glimpse of a tear on his waterline.

 

“Brendon?” Tyler repeated, scooting closer to him on the couch, worry evident in his tone. “Brendon, what’s wrong?”

 

Brendon let out a dry laugh, staring down at his hands. “I’m just a really shit friend.”

 

Tyler frowned. “No, you’re not, you’re an awesome friend. Accidents just happen, I’ve actually been kinda wary of the oven for awhile now-”

 

“No, Tyler,” Brendon cut him off, bringing his knees to his chest. “I’m not talking about your oven. I just… You know Dallon?”

 

Tyler furrowed his eyebrows. “Weekes? You guys used to bunk together freshman year, right?”

 

Brendon nodded, wrapping his arms around his knees, curling in on himself. “Used to, yeah.”

 

“What happened?” Tyler asked softly.

 

“I fucked up a lot freshman year. I partied too much, got drunk all the time - I nearly flunked out, you know - and I did something really stupid. Then we weren’t friends anymore.”

 

Tyler could vaguely remember what Brendon was talking about. He didn’t really know Brendon all that well as a freshman, but he could remember seeing him around campus with a really tall kid he learned to be Dallon. They seemed to be quite close, almost having a reputation of being “Brendon, Dallon’s friend” or “Dallon, Brendon’s friend.”

 

Tyler always wondered how some delinquent like Brendon became friends with a religious goodie-goodie like Dallon. But, they were inseparable, and they seemed to get along quite well. A few weeks into the second semester, however, Tyler noticed Brendon walking by himself to classes and sitting alone in the courtyard playing solemn songs on his guitar. When sophomore year came around, Tyler was bunked with Mark, and he came to realize his disheveled new roommate was a major stoner. Mark would hang out with Brendon every now and then, and one night during October, after a particularly shitty day, Tyler walked in on them getting high while watching reruns of the  _ The Twilight Zone.  _ Too exhausted to care about morals or that anti-drug petition he signed in third grade, Tyler accepted the hit Mark offered him. It smelled bad and tasted even worse, but he got used to it, and relaxed into the couch, letting his mind wander. For awhile, Brendon didn’t talk to him at all. They all zoned out,  _ pun intended,  _ and let their minds drift in the clouds.

 

“You have a keyboard?” Brendon asked when their eleventh consecutive episode finished.

 

Tyler squinted until Brendon came into focus. He remembered thinking Brendon looked like a tired puppy, his eyes half lidded and torso clad in a fluffy sweater. Repeating Brendon’s question in his head a few times, he finally responded with, “Yes, I do.”

 

Brendon stood up and trudged into Tyler’s room. For a moment, there was some shuffling, then the sound of his ukulele being knocked over, followed by a hazy “whoops.” Soon, Tyler could hear the familiar tune of Bohemian Rhapsody, albeit quite slow and stumbly. Glancing to his left, Tyler saw that Mark was fast asleep against the arm of the couch. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Tyler stood up, steadied himself, and trudged into his room as well.

Brendon was sat on Tyler’s bed, keyboard in his lap. His brows were furrowed, trying to force his faded mind to focus on the chords he was playing. He fumbled a bit, huffed, cracked his fingers, and continued to play with more strength. Then, he began to sing, and Tyler felt like he could get high off Brendon's voice alone. All he could do was sit dumbstruck in total admiration of his voice. It was warm and encompassing, though filled with endless charisma. It sounded like Freddie Mercury himself was performing in Tyler's dorm room.

 

When Brendon finished, Tyler clapped in slow, short bursts, amazed beyond belief.

 

“Thanks,” Brendon said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You play, too?”

 

Tyler nodded, gesturing at his ukulele. “I play the piano and ukulele. I’m…” In the midst of his faded consciousness, Tyler struggled to find the right words.

 

“I’m...  I'm punk rock.”

 

Brendon giggled at that, then Tyler started giggling because Brendon was giggling, then they started to downright cackle, and both of them were too far gone to care that the kid in the dorm next to them was banging on the wall and demanding they shut up. 

 

The next morning, Brendon and Tyler talked more about music and their ambitions, and they hit it off. They started to sit by each other during their lessons, walk to class together, and just enjoy hanging out with one another. Brendon was a bit cautious at first, taking a month or two to totally open up be himself with Tyler. Tyler just assumed he was shy.

 

“Tyler…” Brendon mumbled, starting to shiver in his damp clothes. “You helped me out a lot, you know that?”

 

Tyler stared at him. “I did?”

 

Brendon smiled at his ignorance, wrapping himself in a towel. “Yeah. I was pretty messed up the start of sophomore year, and then you became my friend. You helped me out of a bad place, and I wanna thank you for that, actually.”

 

Tyler felt like he was going to cry.

 

“I lost my best friend for being a dumbass, and I…” Brendon sniffled, trying to remain passive. Tyler put an arm around him, and Brendon seemed to shudder once he came in contact with Tyler’s bare chest. Steadying his voice, Brendon continued, “I don’t want to lose you, either. And seeing you so sad and shit makes me…”

 

Tyler squeezed his shoulder, encouraging him to continue.

 

Brendon cleared his throat. “So tonight, it was my idea to make the cheese sticks, and then I nearly burnt down your fucking dorm room,  _ and  _ the entire complex, and-” Brendon choked on a sob.

 

Tyler held him a bit closer, and Brendon laid his head on his shoulder, giving up on his indifferent facade. 

 

“It’s okay, Brendon. It wasn’t your fault, none of it was. Please don’t blame it on yourself.” And Tyler couldn’t tell if he was talking about the flaming cheese sticks or his own pathetic sadness. Brendon seemed to feel guilty for both, when he really shouldn’t be.

 

“I just… I just don’t want to make the same mistake with you like I did with Dallon... and I have a feeling I might,” Brendon admitted.

 

Tyler was confused. “I’m sure you won’t, but - if you don’t mind me asking - what _did_ happen with you and Dallon?”

 

Brendon froze under his arm, and Tyler felt like he had crossed a line. Chewing on his bottom lip, Brendon seemed hesitant on whether or not to say anything. Eventually, he looked up and into Tyler’s eyes with such intensity that Tyler’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“I fe-”

 

“Hey guys!” Mark shouted, traipsing through the front door with three pizza boxes in his arms. “Sorry for taking so long, it seems like everyone and their mother was at Dominos tonight, and I mean, it is a Friday, so you know. God, it still smells like smoke in here, do you guys -” 

 

Mark cut himself off, remaining rooted in the floor when he saw Brendon and Tyler’s rather... _intimate_ position on the couch. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Everything alright?”

 

Brendon scooted away from Tyler, the couch making its infamous  _ creak.  _ “We’re good,” he said, though there was something hidden behind his words. Both Tyler and Mark frowned.

 

“Okay, that’s- cool,” Mark said, then inwardly scolded himself for how lame that sounded. He gave Tyler a pointed look, then retreated into the kitchen.

 

Brendon made a move to get up, but Tyler grabbed his arm. He felt Brendon’s pulse quicken.  _ Why is he acting so odd?  _ Tyler thought.

 

“What were you going to say, man?” Tyler asked.

 

Brendon forced a smile. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

  
With that, Tyler released his arm, letting Brendon stand up and follow Mark into the kitchen. The final _creak_ that resonated when he stood from the couch kept replaying in Tyler’s mind, mixing with the same phrase, ‘ _I just don’t want to make the same mistake with you.’_

 

+

 

Brendon ended up staying over at their place that night, sending a text to Pete to remind him to bring a tent the following morning. He went to bed fairly early, settling in on the couch around eleven thirty. Tyler still wanted to know what Brendon was going to tell him, but he wasn’t going to pressure him into it if he wasn’t comfortable. He knew how that felt.

 

Tyler didn’t sleep too well that night, either. His thoughts kept him awake until almost three in the morning, making him a lethargic, anxious mess.  _ What if he met Prince Joshua tomorrow? What if somebody tried to make him crowd surf during a performance and he got dropped on his head? What if he had to pee in the middle of the night and all the porta-potties were occupied? _

 

_ What if, what if, what if. _ Tyler wished he had a lightswitch on the back of his head so he could make his brain shut off.

 

Around nine the next morning, there was a knock on the door, rousing Tyler from his sleep. He waited to see if either Mark or Brendon would get up to answer it, but to his dismay, the person knocked once more a few minutes later. Begrudgingly, Tyler got out of bed, slipping a pair of sweatpants on over his briefs. He took a quick look at himself in the full body mirror resting in the corner, the tattoos on his chest and arms contrasting with his pale skin. He fluffed his hair a bit, then ventured into the living room. Brendon was still in deep sleep when Tyler passed by, soft snores escaping him.

 

Rubbing his eyes, Tyler opened the door, and was met with none other than Pete Wentz.

 

“Hey! Ty, man, what’s good?” Pete asked, exuberance radiating off of him as he patted Tyler’s back and trotted into the room. Tyler had no idea how such a tiny guy could always be so energetic.

 

“Yo, Beeb, get up, we’re gonna leave soon!” Pete shouted, running over to jostle Brendon awake. Brendon grumbled in response, reaching for his glasses on the coffee table.

 

Pete turned back to Tyler. “You should probably start getting ready, too. Is Mark coming?”

 

Tyler shrugged his shoulders, walking over to Mark's door. He opened it a bit, seeing Mark awake and scrolling through his phone. Mark looked up, and when he realized it was Tyler, he motioned for him to come inside.

 

"One sec," Tyler said to Pete. Brendon got off the couch and stretched, looking at Tyler with a confused expression.

 

Once Tyler shut the door, Mark fired a question at him. "Dude, what was up with Brendon last night?"

 

Tyler shrugged. He didn't really know, either. "He felt bad for the whole cheese stick thing, I guess."

 

"It's just..." Mark frowned, "I've never seen him look so, I don't know, _scared?_ He looked like a little kid under your arm, and it kinda gave me a bad vibe."

 

Tyler thought back to the previous night, how Brendon could hardly keep himself together as he revealed some really personal background to him. He felt honored that Brendon considered him a best friend, but the fact that he felt so responsible for keeping their friendship afloat worried Tyler.

 

Mark sighed. "Keep an eye on him, 'kay? Don't go running off with Prince Joshua and leave him all alone."

 

Tyler nodded, a smile forming on his lips. "I won't leave him, promise."

Tyler walked out of Mark's room, and Pete gave him an expectant look. "Mark's not coming."

 

 Pete sighed, “Well, we’ll still have fun without him."

 

Tyler could feel Brendon's eyes on him, but he pretended not to acknowledge it. “Is Patrick coming?” he asked.

 

Pete shook his head. “Nah, he’s spending the weekend at home for his mom’s birthday, and she doesn’t really take a liking to me, but Joe might meet up with us.”

 

Tyler nodded. “Cool.”

 

“So, it’ll probably just be us three camping, then," Pete stated. "I’ve got a tent and some sleeping bags in my car, you guys have a cooler?” he asked.

 

Tyler pointed to the pantry, and Pete set off to start packing food and drinks. Tyler and Brendon resorted to getting dressed, Tyler in a muscle tank and jeans and Brendon the same. After an hour of packing, double checking, triple checking, and arguing over how many boxes of cheez-its to take, Brendon, Tyler, and Pete set off to Columbus.

 

Tyler sat in the passenger seat while Brendon fell asleep in the back of Pete’s shitty ‘04 Ford Taurus. The car ride would normally be about half an hour, but with festival traffic, there was no telling. Tyler knew a lot of people from their college were planning on going in itself, so he expected to sit for about an hour, at the least.

 

While Pete happily sang along to some pop song on the radio and Brendon snoozed in the back, Tyler had his journal in his lap, waiting for somethingto come to mind - a lyric, a melody,  _anything._

 

After a few minutes into the car ride, Tyler felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He closed his journal and unlocked it, smiling like an idiot when he saw it was a tweet from the Prince.

 

_ New Tweet from  _ **_Spooky Jim_ ** _ : _

 

**“@** **joshuadun** **:** we’re here!!!  **@** **DebbyRyan** **@** **halsey** [ https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CZ3BbBeXEAAkKDf.jpg:large ](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CZ3BbBeXEAAkKDf.jpg:large) ”

 

The tweet had a photo attached to it - Joshua and those two girls he always hung out with were posing before the field where the festival was being held. Tyler grinned even more at how small Joshua appeared next to them, and he admired the outfit the Prince was wearing, as it was similar to his own.

 

Tyler glanced at the clock on Pete's radio, counting down the minutes to when he could meet the Prince like he was back at school counting down the minutes until he was out of class. However, Tyler was more awake and alert than he had been in weeks.

 

An hour passes, and soon enough Pete's parked the car and the three of them are searching for a spot to set up their tent. It's about eleven thirty, and a few acts have already played and gone on the main stage, but Tyler could hardly care about them at the moment. All he wanted to do was find Prince Joshua.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys like Death of a Bachelor, by the way? Oh my, is it FUNKY.
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on my tumblr, http://humhowellujah.tumblr.com/ and i'll try to have another update up soon!!
> 
> All the love, Kendall .xx
> 
> (maybe one day i can be harry styles smh)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading the first chapter! I'll hopefully have the next one up by next week, but in the meantime, please kudos/comment/share with your fave sinners :^)
> 
> \- Kendall


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